Lessons Learned
by Alison Leigh
Summary: Draco raised his eyebrows challengingly.  He turned in his armchair to face her directly, narrowing his eyes as he gazed directly into hers.  "Granger, you have no idea what I could teach you."


**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **This is my first fic ever, I hope you like it! I haven't read the books in years, so please be forgiving if I got minor details wrong. It would mean the world to me if you took the time to review!

…

"Excellent work yet again, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall remarked as she handed Hermione her graded transfiguration essay. "You never fail to impress."

Draco could feel his eyes roll into the back of his head. Typical mudblood Granger, leaching onto all of the professors with her know-it-all demeanour. A childish grin spread over her lips as she glanced down at her grade. It made Draco sick. Wasn't she so accustomed to surpassing everyone's academic expectations by now? It should hardly come as a surprise to her anymore, he thought. Out of curiosity he leaned his head down the row to see what she got, but it was hardly necessary. "Two hundred thirty-eight percent!" Hermione cried to no one in particular. The rest of the class seemed to simultaneously groan – there was only so much of that overachiever that they could take. "I think that's a new record!" But no one was listening. No one ever listened when Granger boasted about her marks, especially not Draco.

McGonagall trailed past Draco's desk, leaving his graded essay face down as she swept through the aisles. "Not your best, Mister Malfoy," she scolded, shaking her head. Draco slowly turned the page over to see a crisp sixty-eight circled at the top of his page. In all honesty it didn't faze him nearly as much as it should have. He knew he was brilliant when it came to spellcasting, and that was all that counted. Essays were just the professors' way of showing brown-nosers like Granger that they were their favourites, and Draco had always firmly believed that one learns by doing. His marks didn't mean a thing to him. His father was a well-connected man, all he needed to do was say the word and Draco could have any job he wanted. School was just a technicality.

Draco grabbed his books and quill as Professor McGonagall dismissed the class. "Not so fast, Draco," she called, motioning for him to join her at her desk. "Fucking hell," he murmured under his breath before turning on his heels and sauntering towards the old woman. "What?" he asked impatiently, a look of disgust on his face. It was bad enough that he had to waste his time in a class with this washed-up old hag that gravitated to any student wearing a red and gold tie, but the fact that she was wasting his precious time after class simply put him over the edge.

"Mister Malfoy," she started, annunciating every syllable of his name with overwhelming clarity. Just the sound of her voice made Draco cringe. "It should come as no surprise to you that your grades in this class have been less than satisfactory." Draco rolled his eyes, directing his attention to the corner of the room, far away from McGonagall's eyes. He refused to give the satisfaction of his attention to any teacher other than Professor Snape, and he surely wouldn't be caught dead respecting the head of Gryffindor. "Your practical examinations are up to par, but are not nearly enough to get you through my class. I highly recommend a tutor, or I can promise you I'll be seeing you in this class again next year."

Draco couldn't help but let out a scoff. Was she _threatening_ him? Did she have any idea who he was? Who his _father_ was? He had to fight to hold back his laughter. "Yes, ma'am," he spat facetiously, his words filled with venom. With that he took the liberty of dismissing himself, turning and swiftly swaggering away from McGonagall. _What a joke._ As if she honestly expected he, Draco Malfoy, to stoop low enough to ask someone for help? He was a leader, an icon. He couldn't afford have his reputation tarnished by the stain of asking those beneath him for _help_. There was no way.

"Oh, and Draco?" McGonagall called from behind him. "I'll be keeping an eye on you. If you don't find a classmate willing to assist you then you can count on nightly tutoring sessions with me."

He stopped in his tracks and swallowed hard, his fists beginning to tighten. Nightly meetings with McGonagall? It would take all of his strength just to keep him from hexing her. It was settled – he was finding a tutor.

…..

Draco could feel his dignity silently draining from his body as he stood atop a flight of enchanted stairs on his way to the library. He'd never thought this day would come. He'd barely even stepped foot in the library before. Then again, neither had most self-respecting Slytherins. It was an unspoken mindset that spending too much time outside of the dungeons would cause the scum of the other houses to rub off on them, and the last thing Draco wanted was to have his perfect reputation tarnished. He was both a pure-blood and a Slytherin – two of the highest honours in the wizarding world. Associating with other houses, or even worse – _half bloods or mudbloods_ – was like treason. But yet here he found himself, making his way up to the library voluntarily to see the one person he loathed more than anything – besides Harry Potter, of course.

"Granger!" Draco bellowed across the nearly empty library. It didn't surprise him that the spacious facility was only harbouring a handful of students – what young wizard in their right mind would choose to spend their time with their nose stuck in a book? Obviously no one respectable, which was why it came as no surprise to Draco that Hermione Granger was spending her afternoon in there. He watched as her head jolted upwards, in search of the voice that had called out her name. "Over here, you stupid mudblood," he called as he approached the table that she solely inhabited. He watched as her eyes widened in disbelief at the sight of him.

"What on earth are you doing here of all places, Draco? Are you lost? Allow me to clear up this little misunderstanding, this is the _library. _Maybe you've heard of it?" Her words were bitter and cold. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him, as if she was giving him a sign that he had no right being on her turf.

"Funny," Draco replied sarcastically. He was not amused. "But I don't recall anyone giving the _mudblood_ permission to make jokes?" Hermione's lips instantly tightened as her stare turned quickly into one of anger rather than annoyance. A satisfied smirk snaked over Draco's mouth. "Anyway, though it may be hard for your _brilliant_ mind to comprehend, I know exactly where I am. As much as it pains me to say it, I have a proposition for you, Granger."

Hermione burst into laughter. "Ha!" she scoffed in disbelief. "You mean the great Draco Malfoy suddenly needs _my_ help? Go on, humour me."

Draco could feel his eyes narrow. She was enjoying this way too much. He was almost tempted to turn around and leave right then, but the image of one-on-one sessions with McGonagall kept his feet firmly planted. "Are you through?" he demanded impatiently as he waited for her chuckles to cease. "It's not like I'm thrilled about this either.. Trust me, if there were anyone else that could help me I wouldn't be anywhere _near_ you right now. McGonagall is demanding that I get a transfiguration tutor, and if I'm going to waste my time learning outside of class I might as well do it with someone… _smart_." The last word came out as more of a harsh whisper. He hated the thought of complimenting a Gryffindor, especially this one in particular, but he knew it must be done. If Granger was actually going to help him he needed to pull out all the stops.

"Draco, was that a.. compliment?" Hermione asked, a smirk appearing over her lips.

"_Shut up, Granger!"_ he hissed instinctively. He knew he was the one in a position of vulnerability – something he worked hard to avoid on a daily basis. It was humiliating enough to be seen with her in public, but if she turned him down? He could only imagine the shame. "So are you in?" he asked, slightly embarrassed. He was Draco Malfoy – he didn't need help from anyone, ever. Exposing himself like this was new to him, and he didn't like it at all.

The seconds seemed to tick by slower and slower as he waited for her answer. "Why on earth would I want to help you?" she challenged. _Typical._ Draco knew that nearly every other girl in the school would practically beg to tutor him, but the one girl he needed was putting up a fight.

Draco rolled his eyes. "I'll pay you," he offered. If bribery was the only way to convince her then so be it. "Ten galleons per lesson. Deal?"

He could see the gears turning inside Hermione's head. "Fine," she sighed. "But only because you step off of your high horse about once in a blue moon. This is too good to pass up." Draco swallowed hard. He was silently praying that she wouldn't tell anyone – it would be absolutely murderous for his reputation.

"Tomorrow night, then. Around eight, in the room of requirement." He refused to meet with her somewhere that they'd be seen – he knew the type of assumptions people would make if they saw him walking around the castle with Hermione Granger. He'd be as good as an outcast in the house of Slytherin if word got out that he was associating himself with her. Draco turned abruptly and headed towards the library doors without so much as a 'goodbye' or a 'thank you'. He didn't _need_ to thank Granger – if anything, she should be thanking him for his presence.

…

Draco swept through the halls of the seventh floor, concentrating hard on exactly what he needed the room to be – soundproof, inconspicuous, and certainly impenetrable. He'd sooner kiss a house elf than have someone assume that he was friends with Hermione Granger, so the room's security was imperative. Granted he probably didn't have to make these requests – it was already half past eight, he was almost positive that Hermione had arrived and implemented the necessary precautions half an hour ago. He slid in through the door, not surprised to see Hermione pacing back and forth. "There you are!" she cried, obviously annoyed. "What kept you so long? For someone who so desperately needs my help you're really showing much dedication."

A scoff escaped Draco's lips. "Oh I'm sorry," he started sarcastically. "I didn't realize you were running a fucking stopwatch." In all honesty he'd been late on purpose, just to push Granger's buttons; just to see if she'd wait for him, and she did. It just reinforced that despite the fact he was practically begging for her help, he was still the one that held the power.

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh. "Whatever," she said with an eye roll. "Did you bring your textbooks?"

"Why on earth would I bring textbooks?" Draco laughed.

She rolled her eyes yet again. "I figured as much." Hermione walked across the room to a stack of objects and, in typical room of requirement fashion, pulled out a book. Naturally everything they needed was already in there waiting for them. "Don't just stand there, come on!" she called as she motioned for Draco to come closer. Hermione turned to face the assortment of objects once more. "Accio armchairs!" she called, waving her wand. Two red chairs came flying towards her and landed nearly in front of the two of them. Hermione and Draco sat down simultaneously as she opened up her textbook. "Let's start with Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration," she explained as she proceeded to walk Draco through the ins and outs of the law's properties and exemptions. Draco could feel his skull slowly numbing. He didn't _care_ about what the stupid mudblood had to say, even if it was supposed to help him along. Every last one of her words was going in one ear and out the other. Draco wasn't even pretending to be interested. What was the use? He didn't give a damn, and it wasn't like Granger put his education first either. "And one of the most important exceptions of the law is.." she continued, glancing over at him and finally realizing that he was lost in his own thoughts and not paying attention to a word of what she was saying. "Draco!" she snapped. "Are you even listening to me? I –"

"God, would you just shut up?" Draco bellowed instinctively. "No I'm not listening, I haven't been listening for the entire duration of this so-called lesson. The sound of your voice is going to end up killing me, I swear. Honestly I'd rather teach _myself_ this shit than listen to you go on for another minute." He paused to catch his breath. He'd spat out his words so quickly, so angrily, that his cheeks were starting to flush.

"Oh really?" she snapped back. "You're the one that came running to _me_, Draco. You begged for _my_ help, not the other way around. But if I'm so worthless then I suppose I quit. Good luck teaching yourself, you have neither the talent nor the motivation."

Draco raised his eyebrows challengingly. He turned in his armchair to face her directly, narrowing his eyes as he gazed directly into hers. "Granger, you have _no idea_ what I could teach you." She stared back quizzically.

That was when his instincts took over. That was when he kissed her.

The second Draco's lips touched hers he didn't know what had come over him. He hated her – oh god, he hated her. It was as if the only way to fully express all of his frustrations was in a physical manifestation. His anger and his urge to prove her wrong were both in overdrive. She claimed he couldn't teach? He happened to know, or at least _believe_, that he was nothing if not amazing when it came to tantalizing the opposite sex – there was more than a thing or two that he could teach her in that department. Of course they couldn't stand each other, but that just added to the heat of it all.

At first she was unresponsive. Her mouth remained closed and frozen as he began to work his lips. He could feel her resistance, but that just made him want her even more. Though he'd never admit it aloud Draco knew that Hermione had blossomed over the years, growing out of the frizzy-haired shell she once lived in. She was, dare he even think it, _attractive_, and that made up for the fact that he was kissing a mudblood. He wanted her to admit defeat, but her mouth remained stiff and still – it only made him try harder. Draco pulled back the slightest bit, waiting for any type of response, but Hermione simply sat there in awe as she had the whole time. He moved his lips back to her skin, this time trailing a line of kisses down her neck. A faint gasp escaped her lips. _Ha_, Draco thought. _I win._ Her silent response was enough to prove that to him. It was over. He could stop. He could pull himself away from that filthy mudblood and pretend it never happened.. but he didn't want to. He may have been the prince of Slytherin, but Draco Malfoy was still a red-blooded male, and though it pained him to think it he knew he wanted Hermione on some level.

Draco brought his lips back to hers once more and she welcomed them fiercely. He slid his tongue inside her mouth and she did nothing to resist. He could feel Hermione's tongue snake its way across his, daring him to move further. He pulled away slowly, moving his lips over to her ear. "Not bad, for a beginner," he whispered. "But there's much to be improved on. Your lessons start tomorrow." With that he picked himself up and turned towards the door, leaving Hermione dumbstruck in her chair. The last thing on his mind was transfiguration – the student had now become the teacher, and Draco intended to give Hermione every lesson in the book.


End file.
